


fluff the pillow, make the bed

by jupiterrism



Category: Bumilangit Cinematic Universe, Gundala (2019)
Genre: 5+1 Things, M/M, Not Beta Read, fluff and schmoop and prolly some nsfw stuffs????, i dunno what this is, im too lazy to name things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-16 03:53:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21029813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jupiterrism/pseuds/jupiterrism
Summary: Ghazul thinks that his bedroom is a sacred place. But Ganda manages to break-in.(or 5 separate occasions where ganda and/or ghazul put each other to bed but never ACTUALLY sleep together + 1 where they actually sleep together.)





	1. drunk.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> featuring giggly ghani zulham.

_I._

During his first year working with Ghazul, Ganda realizes that Ghazul never gets drunk. Sure, he’s seen Ghazul sipping on a glass of wine or a tall flute of champagne, but Ganda never saw him... drinking. He understands that Ghazul has to maintain his good air around Pengkor, keeping his professional poise to gain Pengkor’s trust as a way to survive. Ganda knows Ghazul has something up in his sleeve, something big and completely unrelated to Pengkor. Orbiting around Pengkor is just his way to achieve his goals.

Then why is he now holding an armful of a man named Ghani Zulham?

Ghazul is, in no mean, a small man. He’s muscular, with above average height and wide shoulders. Ganda pays attention to the man all the time, but his stares never lingers, lest Ghazul finds out. But he knows that underneath all his bulking suits, he hides a pack of... _flattering_ muscles. Which is why Ganda is having difficulties in carrying Ghazul back to his place.

“Bapak ternyata berat juga, ya,” he mumbles, struggling to tug Ghazul upright. The man only levels him a lazy stare, face lax and a playful smile on his lips. His hand reaches out and pats Ganda on the cheek. His other arm is wrapped around Ganda’s shoulders and he’s walking like a baby fawn on its first steps.

Ganda honestly doesn’t remember how it all ends up like this. They were at a gala, a charity event or some sort. Bustling guests, and Ghazul with his charming smile has managed to slip on between people to flatter them. Schmoozing is one of his skills and Ganda has to say that it’s impressive, that the cold, ever-so-calculating Ghani Zulham could laugh freely at someone’s admittedly not funny jokes. He laughed, but his eyes were devoid of humour.

Ganda was just watching passively from a distance, an empty flute sitting in his hand, when Ghazul suddenly appeared on his side. He was _giggling_, face flushed red, and in no time, Ganda had his arms around one very giggly Ghani Zulham. It was hell of an experience, Ganda concludes. He usually doesn’t have the nerve to lay a hand on Ghazul but now?

God help us, Ganda prays fervently, jerking his head away from Ghazul's head as Ghazul makes to break free from his grasp. He doesn’t even know that Ghazul could wriggle like that. If he could put him in a bridal carry, he _would_. But turns out Ghazul is heavier than he looks.

“Permisi ya, Pak, maaf, maaf, maaf.” Ganda grimaces to himself as he pats Ghazul's pockets, trying to locate the man’s apartment card, before finally (triumphantly!) pulling it out from his breast pocket. After struggling for a minute, Ganda manages to open the door and with that, he finally drags the man clinging on him inside.

Ghazul's place is spacious, but startlingly empty. Ganda has never been here before - Ghazul always asks to meet him on the parking lot.

“Saya masuk kamar bapak, ya. Sekali lagi, maaf.” With another grimace, Ganda pushes the door to Ghazul's room open, revealing a king-sized bed, before unceremoniously dropping Ghazul to the bed. Carrying Ghazul from the party to his place is way harder than his gym routine though Ganda is unsure whether he prefers dragging Ghazul around or having an earful of scolding from his trainer.

Ganda steps closer, trying to unbutton Ghazul's suit jacket. The man is ridiculously ripped, and as Ganda finally peels the jacket off, he’s rewarded by a sight of Ghani Zulham wrapped in a tight, white shirt. He stares for a long moment - the sight is _way _ too pretty to ignore.

“Ganda.”

Ganda flinches, snapped out of his reverie almost immediately, and his gaze snaps up to Ghazul. The man, thankfully, has an amused smile on his lips. Apologies form on the tip of his tongue and before Ganda has the chance to utter them, Ghazul has long fingers wrapped around his wrist, tugging him close.

“Kamu mau ngapain?” His voice is low, _sultry_, and isn’t that a sight, Ghani Zulham staring up with low-lidded eyes and a playful smile curling on his lips. Ganda feels his breath stutters in his chest, mind going blank.

“Saya cuma mau ngelepasin jaket bapak, ngga ngapa-ngapain deh, Pak. Beneran.” The grip on his wrist goes slack and Ganda seizes the opportunity to pull his hand away. He continues to undress Ghazul from his pants and shoes, movements almost erratic, and as he sneaks a glance up at Ghazul, the man only smirks at him. He can feel heat creeping up his face, up to his ears.

“Kalau mau tidur sama saya, bilang aja.” With that, he rolls to his side, eyes already shut close. Ganda stares at him for a long time after the man goes to sleep, before scurrying out of his room. What the hell just happened?

Ganda decides to camp in his boss' living room, for the lack of better things to do. When Ghazul walks out of his bedroom, it’s with a groan, his steps limp. Ganda, the ever-present shadow next to him, offers him a glass of cold water and a painkiller. The man takes them without a question and with a narrow look he shoots at Ganda, he goes to the bathroom without a single word.

Ganda shudders. Pretty or not, that man is terrifying. There is no way he would sleep with Ghazul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> o boi if only he knows


	2. sick.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> someone got sick and the other can be found dragging the invalid to bed.

_II._

“Ganda, tolong naikin suhu AC-nya.” Ganda peeks from the rear-view mirror to get a good look from his boss before obediently turning the temperature up, just slightly.

“Kedinginan, Pak?” Ghazul just shoots him a look before averting his gaze to the window. It’s weird. Ganda has worked for Ghazul for 2 years now and this is the first time Ghazul asks him to turn the temperature up. Upon closer inspection (as close as he could manage), his boss looks... flushed. Only slightly, hidden under his tanned skin.

“Mau mampir apotek buat beli obat, Pak?” Ganda offers, trying his best to sound kind and sympathetic. Truthfully, he’s worried for his boss. Ghani Zulham might be a _normal _human being, but he doesn’t get sick. Not under Ganda’s supervision, at least.

At his question, Ghazul just shakes his head. “Saya ngga apa-apa.” His voice is curt, _cold_, but he has a hand pressed against his temple, massaging in a slow circle. Ganda drives slower, more carefully this time.

As the other man gets out of the car, Ganda watches how the man wobbles slightly on his feet. Gathering his nerves, Ganda gets out of the car in a hurry, already reaching out towards Ghazul. “Saya takut bapak kenapa-kenapa,” Ganda manages, as he gets his arm around the man's waist and guides him towards his place.

Ghazul shoots him a withering look, but he doesn’t try to shake him off. “Saya bukan invalid, saya bisa jalan sendiri.” _Venomous_, Ganda’s small brain supplies, and underneath his sharp gaze, he feels himself withers in fear.

“Saya tahu, kok,” he replies, trying to keep his voice steady, “saya cuma takut bapak kenapa-kenapa.” The other man is silent during their ride up to his floor. He still hasn’t shook Ganda’s arm off his waist.

Ganda finally lets his arm drop from around Ghazul's waist before he bows his head with a sheepish smile. “Karena bapak udah sampai dengan selamat di rumah bapak, saya izin mau pulang dulu.” With another bow, he makes his way towards the door without sparing another look towards Ghazul.

“Ganda.” The way the man calls his name makes Ganda stops in his tracks, already turning around. Ghazul is leaning against a wall, absentmindedly staring at his feet. His face is even redder than before and Ganda is sure that is has nothing to do with embarrassment.

“Kamu bisa masak?” At his question, Ganda nods his head, eyebrows drawn into a frown.

“Tolong buatkan saya sup. Kalau butuh bahan, telpon aja ke minimarket di lantai bawah, biar mereka yang antar. Saya mau tidur dulu.” With that, Ghazul walks into his bedroom and shuts the door close with a light thud. Ganda stares at the wooden door of Ghani’s bedroom and with a shake of his head, he gets to work.

.&.

It’s been 5 hours and Ganda’s been patiently waiting for Ghazul to surface from his bedroom. There is a knot in his chest, uneasiness that grows from hours he’s spent wandering aimlessly in Ghazul's place. Exhaling quietly, Ganda approaches the bedroom with a bowl of (still) steaming soup and knocks on the door, loud enough for the sound to carry inside.

“Pak?” he calls out, voice low with worry. “Sudah bangun?”

There’s no answer. Not even a faint blanket rustling noise. Ganda pauses, before rapping his knuckles on the wooden door again. Still no answer. Bracing himself, he pushes the door open before stepping into the room.

The room is dark, and just like the rest of Ghazul's place, it’s sparsely decorated. Ganda makes his way to the bed to see Ghazul, curling up into a ball and wrapped with a thick blanket. As he steps closer, he notices that the man is sweating bullets, droplets of sweat running down his forehead.

“Pak,” Ganda tries to nudge his boss awake, patting his shoulder gently. His body heat is radiating through his thin shirt. Definitely fever. “Pak, bangun. Bapak harus minum obat.” With a frown on his face, Ganda brushes his hand against the visible part of Ghazul's face, the back of his hand pressed firmly against his boss’ cheek. To his surprise, his boss makes a sleepy noise, eyes slowly fluttering open at the touch.

Ganda takes a step back, watching as Ghazul starts to gain consciousness, flashing a relieved smile to the man. “Makan dulu, Pak. Saya ambilkan obatnya.” With that, he sets the bowl on the nightstand next to the bed and makes his way to the kitchen. He’s already prepared the medicine on the counter, along with a glass of water.

As he arrives in the bedroom, he finds Ghazul already sitting up and back propped against the headrest. He’s moved the bowl of soup to his lap, but he just stares at it with an unreadable look.

“Pak?” Ghazul glances at Ganda, eyeing the medicine with a look of distaste. “Dimakan dulu supnya. Ini, obatnya saya taruh sini.” With another smile that’s borderline a grimace, Ganda sets the painkiller along with a glass of water, before making to stand on the far side of the bed.

Ghazul is still staring, Ganda realizes with a twist of discomfort. What’s terrifying about Ghani Zulham is his sharp stare, his unreadable look that often makes Ganda shifts uneasily on his feet. Without saying a single word, Ghazul takes a big spoonful of the soup, taking a sip with his eyes closed.

“Ini kamu sendiri yang masak?” Ghazul's voice snaps him out of his trance, and Ganda nods his head a tad too eagerly.

“Di kulkas bapak masih ada sayuran yang bisa dipakai, jadi saya ngga beli apa-apa.”

The other man hums, a quiet noise in the background, before he takes another careful sip of the soup. His hand is shaking a little, Ganda notices. Before he could point that out, Ghazul levels him a look, lips forming a faint smile.

“Enak.” As he takes another sip, Ganda watches as something warm blooms in his chest. He might be preening under the compliment a little bit.

“Kalau sudah selesai makan, bapak minum obat dulu.” His boss might be really hungry. From the way he’s scraping the bowl clean, he also likes Ganda’s homemade soup. Ghazul sets the empty bowl aside before reaching out for the painkiller.

“Kamu ngapain masih di sini?” At the question, Ganda just shrugs his shoulder. Honestly, he doesn’t know why he’s still here too. He knows that his boss is an adult who needs no supervision. He can take care of himself.

“Saya ngga enak, mau ninggalin bapak. ‘Kan bapak lagi sakit.” Ghazul lets out a soft exhale of breath, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“Kamu pulang aja. Saya ngga butuh _babysitter_.” That curt voice again. Ghazul seems to have a way with words - after complimenting him, he has no qualms in making cutting remarks. Ganda nods his head, giving him a bow, before he heads to the door.

“Ganda?” This is the second time Ghazul is calling him by his name. Ganda turns around, carefully keeping his face neutral.

Ghazul just smiles at him, a genuine curve on his lips that compliments his features. “Makasih banyak. Jangan lupa tutup pintunya kalau kamu keluar.”

Blinking at the sudden kind words, Ganda just nods his head and returns the smile briefly before he steps out of his room, shutting the door behind him.

Maybe his boss is going insane. His mind keeps flashing back to Ghazul's smile and Ganda nods his head to himself. His boss is _definitely_ going insane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well


	3. to avoid accidents.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this time, ghazul tucks ganda to sleep.

_III_.

Venturing from museums to museums in seven consecutive days has taken its toll on Ganda. His back is aching, and so are his shoulders. Ghazul keeps telling him to do all the hard works. Ganda knows he’s all muscles and little to no brain (compared to Ghazul), he’s a henchman first and a parliament member second. But his age is already close to 40 rather than 30 and physical activities tire him out fast.

Ganda tries to hide a wide yawn behind his hand. In the midst of it, he catches Ghazul’s gaze from the rear view mirror and he quickly drops his hand to the steering wheel. Behind him, Ghazul snorts.

“Capek?” His tone is mocking, a little condescending, and Ganda shrugs his shoulder at that.

“Ngga kok, Pak. Ngga capek.” They both fall silent after that. Ghazul’s place is only several minutes away and Ganda couldn’t help but stealing glances towards his boss from the rear view mirror. Ghazul has his eyes on the streets, not looking at him. Scrubbing a hand over his face, Ganda puts his focus on the road in front of him, completely missing Ghazul’s knowing gaze.

“Jangan pulang dulu,” Ghazul calls out after he got out of the car. Fixing his suit jacket, he gives Ganda a look before gesturing to general direction of his place with his head. “Kamu istirahat dulu di tempat saya. Saya ngga mau kamu nyetir sambil ngantuk.”

Ganda stills in his seat, hands still gripping the steering wheel. While he knows he’s tired and in need of sleep, he doesn’t think it’s... _appropriate_ for him to sleep at his boss’ place.

“Tapi, Pak -” Ghazul’s raised hand is enough to shut him up, but he doesn’t miss the way Ghazul rolls his eyes at him.

“Turun dari mobil. Kamu tidur dulu sebelum pulang.” With a meek nod, Ganda quickly turns the engine off and slips out of the car.

Their trip to Ghazul’s place is quiet, no noise could be heard from both men. Ganda watches Ghazul warily as they make their way out of the elevator, uncertainty clear in his every steps.

As soon as they enter the apartment, Ghazul turns around to level him a stare. “Kamu tidur di kasur saya. Jangan ngorok, saya mau kerja.” Without sparing Ganda another look, Ghazul heads to the bedroom, presumably to change his clothes. Ganda could only exhale a sigh before heading to his boss’ bedroom, carefully toeing his shoes and socks off.

He doesn’t know what he got himself into, truthfully. And Ghazul... His boss is very unpredictable, in actions and in words. One time he berated Ganda for his fumbling, the next time he offered him a genuine smile. Sleep comes to him as soon as his back touches the soft mattress. Once again, he misses how Ghazul strips his suit jacket off and tucks a blanket around him, an amused smile on his lips.

.&.

Ganda startles awake at the sound of fingers rapidly tapping on a keyboard, jerking out of sleep too quickly. He sits up blearily, both hands rubbing his face, and the sight of Ghazul sitting next to him on the bed is enough to tip him off balance.

_His boss_. Ghani Zulham is sitting next to him as he sleeps and he feels his face heats up at the thought. Ganda realizes that he no longer wears his suit jacket - it’s on the nightstand, neatly folded. He also has a blanket around him, meaning someone tucked him _in_. Ganda falls silent after a moment, still trying to gather his consciousness and his nerves. He no longer feels sleepy, thankfully, and judging by the dark sky outside the room, it’s somewhere around midnight already.

“Di meja makan ada ayam, kalau kamu mau,” Ghani says suddenly without even looking up from his work, causing Ganda to flinches slightly.

“Ngga usah, Pak,” Ganda demurs, already sliding off the bed and gathering his shoes and socks. “Saya makan di rumah aja nanti.” His movements are frantic, jerky, as he puts his socks on before sliding his feet into his shoes.

“Ayamnya bawa. Saya udah makan.” Again, his boss’ words cause Ganda to pause. Is it possible that his boss bought that only for him? Clearing the thoughts away, he nods his head.

“Baik, Pak.” Ganda manages to give the man a bow, despite his steadily aching back, and slips out of the room. True to his words, there are several pieces of chicken, already cooling down. He steals a glance at the bedroom, at Ghazul who is obscured by a wooden door and -

“Ayamnya, Ganda.” God damn it, his boss is too damn terrifying. Ganda quickly gathers the chicken in a plastic bag and scurries out after murmuring a quiet “Makasih, Pak, saya pamit pulang” to Ghazul. He, once again, misses how Ghazul snorts in amusement at his antics, lips forming a smile before he huffs out a quiet laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ghazul stop being a tsundere challenge. writer stop making ghazul a tsundere challenge.


	4. hurt.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> let ghazul seeks comfort on him tonight - Ganda has to let himself be content with just one night.

_IV._

It’s something past 2 in the morning already and Ganda has been alert for _hours_. He’s waiting for Ghazul, obviously. The man has been so caught up with his training with..._ Ki Wilawuk_ that he forgot to go home. Ghazul told Ganda to pick him up sometime around midnight, because by then, Ki Wilawuk has to retire to his chamber. But it’s two hours past midnight and Ghazul still hasn’t gave him a notice.

Ganda debates on heading to the room where Ghazul said he will be training at, but hesitation roots him to the ground. Should he go or should he not go? As Ganda paces on his spot, he feels his phone buzzes. He feels his eyes widen, _that must be Ghazul_. Without bothering to check the message, he rushes to the room where Ghazul is supposed to be at, partially running.

When he arrives, the room is dimly lit. The light is out, except for the lanterns Ghazul has insisted to set on the wall. It gives him chill, as he steps into the room, breathing heavily. Ki Wilawuk is nowhere on sight, which means he has retired to his chamber already. Ganda looks around, worry gnawing his insides, because Ghazul is not _there_.

“Pak?” Ganda calls out, pitching his voice louder to make sure it carries. The room is huge, empty of any furniture. “Pak Ghani?” Call him paranoid, but the place gives him a sense of _wrongness_, because Ki Wilawuk was here and he was supposed to be dead. The door slams close, causing Ganda to flinch violently, a curse word on the tip of his tongue.

“Bikin gue kaget aja,” he grumbles under his breath before he starts to inspect the room.

“Ghani?” It’s awfully brave of him to call Ghazul without the honorifics because the man has a habit of popping out of nowhere, without a sound. Ganda pauses, his senses growing sharp and -

A whimper. So quiet, so easily missed. Ganda must have stared past it because there is a lump of cloth on the far corner, wriggling slightly. Without hesitation, Ganda makes his way towards the lump - it must be his boss. If it isn’t, _well_, it will be his first time on fighting against something otherworldly.

Ganda kneels down next to the lump, carefully putting his hand on it. The person - _it’s a person!_ \- underneath it groans, his voice rough and yes, it’s his boss, alright. He tugs the cloths off Ghazul slowly, trying not to jostle the man around too much. The sight that greets him is not pretty at all.

Though Ghazul is bare-chested, his whole body is littered with bruises and small cuts. The bleeding has stopped, thankfully, but the bruise has turned ugly blue, stark against his tanned skin. There are several healed scars on his abdomen and yellowing bruises - meaning they’ve been there for days. Ganda doesn’t know what kind of training his boss has been doing but this... He couldn’t help but feel scared for Ghazul.

“Astaga, Bapak.” With a sigh, Ganda carefully gathers the barely conscious man in his arms. He’s lost weight too, Ganda muses - the body in his arms is considerably lighter, leaner. Ghazul doesn’t even stir during the walk back to his car and Ganda counts that as a mixed blessing.

He drives in silence, occasionally stealing glances at Ghazul, who is lying down on the backseat. The man doesn’t seem to be awake, though his lips move without a sound a couple of times. His eyes drive to an open cut on Ghazul’s side and has to bite back a wince because, _ouch_. Eventhough he used to work as a thug, he never got that kind of nasty gashes after a fight.

Ghazul’s building is suspiciously empty as the arrive. There are no security around, as if Ghazul has anticipated this. Ganda couldn’t help but shooting the unconscious man a wary look - he’s willing to trade his money to get a peek into Ghazul’s head.

A hand clenches on his shirt, making Ganda glances down in surprise. “Ganda?” His boss’ voice is weak, every breath is painful, and as his lips move, a drop of fresh blood runs down his chin. Ghazul’s eyelids are fluttering open, his gaze unfocused even as it lands on Ganda.

Ganda could only flash him a grimace, even as he lays Ghazul down on his bed. His hand reaches out, thumb sweeping away the blood. “Pak,” he says, nodding his head, before he rummages around, hoping to find a disinfectant and a heaping amount of bandage.

“Kamu ngapain?” It seems that Ghazul has gained consciousness, according to his steady, but quiet voice. The man is still lying down, wincing ever so slightly as he tries to move around.

“Cari perban sama alkohol, Pak. Nanti luka-lukanya infeksi, ‘kan serem.” Ganda throws Ghazul a look, eyebrows drawn into a frown. “Jangan gerak-gerak, Pak. Nanti lukanya berdarah lagi, bisa lama sembuhnya kalau gitu.”

Ghazul stares at him blankly, so very still that it disquiets Ganda a little. With a cotton, he starts to dab the open wounds with alcohol, tapping lightly over the gash. Over him, Ghazul lets out a quiet hiss, face contorted with pain. His hands are clenching down on the sheets, fingers gone white.

Ganda doesn’t offer the man reassuring words - he knows very well that Ghazul hates sentimentality. He wraps the bandage around Ghazul’s abdomen, snug enough against his lean torso. This time, Ganda doesn’t let his stare linger. Picking up another clean cotton ball, he starts to clean Ghazul’s split lip, drawing another pained hiss from the man.

He hopes his fingers are gentle as he turns Ghazul’s face to a side, swathing the cotton across a gash across his cheek. “Mau saya panggilkan dokter aja ngga, Pak? Takutnya bapak kenapa-kenapa.”

As expected, Ghazul shakes his head, averting his gaze from Ganda’s face. “Ngga usah. Kamu aja cukup.”

The quiet words cause Ganda’s heart to leap in his ribcage, eyes growing wide. Nodding his head, he continues to clean the wounds. And if his hand shakes a little, let it be a secret.

He doesn’t understand how Ghazul manages to fall asleep as Ganda cleans his wounds. He must be really tired because Ghani Zulham doesn’t fall asleep accidentally. Ganda shakes his head, it’s not his place to worry for his boss. His job is to make sure Ghazul achieves his goals, not being his babysitter.

Then why is he still here? Ganda finds himself staring at Ghazul’s lax face, the way his eyebrows scrunching a little in pain as he shifts slightly, and he heaves a long sigh.

“Ganda.” The man’s voice jerks him out of his reverie and he feels his face heats up in embarrassment, has his boss caught Ganda staring at him? “Malam ini kamu tidur sini, ya?”

Ghazul is _asking_ him to sleep here, rather than _commanding_ him - and that alone is unsettling.

“Bapak ngga minta juga saya bakal tetap nungguin, kok.” Ganda lets out a small chuckle, aiming to be casual as he pats Ghazul’s arm. His heart is hammering in his chest, for no apparent reason. Human body is a weird thing.

Ghazul is still not staring at him even as Ganda offers him a medicine. A painkiller, something that Ghazul usually takes when he’s having a headache. Ganda started to carry it around with him, because Ghazul is a hell of a stubborn man.

He sets the medicine on the nightstand, Ganda knows Ghazul can drink it dry. “Saya taruh sini ya, Pak, kalau bapak butuh.” Knowing Ghazul, he won’t take it but _hey_, he’s tried.

“Kamu tidur sini.” Ganda blinks as he makes to leave the bed. Ghazul is _now_ staring at him, eyes no longer blank. He pats the empty space next to him, gaze shading towards _hopeful_ and isn’t that a foreign look on him? Ganda is used to have Ghazul staring down at him in a condescending and mocking manner, but never hopeful. His boss is heavily injured though, so he slips out of his shoes and lies down on the bed.

Sleep doesn’t come easily to him this time, not with Ghazul’s hitching breath everytime he moves and the way he radiates heat. They are close enough, shoulders brushing. Ganda feels his boss shifts closer to him, warm fingers circling around his wrist, and he forces himself to stay still. It must be the pain and the exhaustion. Let Ghazul seeks comfort on him tonight - Ganda has to let himself be content with just one night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oblivious boys, smh. just kiss already.


	5. a glance and what follows.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fucking Ghani Zulham indeed, and he doesn’t realize he means it very literally.

_V._

Ganda knows damn well what he’s signed up, what following Ghazul means to his whole being. He could lose his position as parliament member, wealth he’s acquired, Pengkor’s trust on him, and even his life - but Ganda couldn’t seem to care. There is something akin to pride bubbling in his chest at Ghazul’s quiet approval and he has solemnly sworn to dedicate himself to Ghazul.

A henchman, a chauffeur, a bodyguard - those are what Ganda is to Ghazul, or what Ganda likes to think. Occasional cook too, because Ghazul can’t cook any damn things. Ganda has learned to shut up about it, Ghazul’s glare when he snorted at his boss’ burnt toast felt like impending death.

What he doesn’t understand is this: Ghazul brought home a woman _and_ he asked Ganda to drive them both to his place. While Ganda isn’t exactly privy to the other man’s sexual life, he couldn’t help the spark of curiosity that arouses with the request - or rather, demand. Ghazul usually drives his date to his place by himself and Ganda understands that - his boss is a very private man. He’s slept with men and women alike and there is no judgement, _alright_, Ganda might be dense at times but he knows that the other man is very attractive.

What he doesn’t expect is this: Ghazul and his date playing tonsil-hockey on the backseat. Ganda had picked them both from a shady nightclub on the outskirt of Djakarta and he was entirely oblivious of the tension between Ghazul and his date. His date - a tall, voluptuous woman in deep green dress, all shiny black hair and viciously painted lips - now has a leg swung over his boss’ lap, her lipstick ruined. The noises from the backseat grows louder - as if they’re not trying to be quiet _at all_ \- and it’s still 20 minutes drive to Ghazul’s place, to his horror.

_Oh God_, Ganda thinks in mortification as he hears the grunts that mingle with high-pitched whimpers. and he sneaks a glance from the rear view mirror. He had suggested, once, to install a partition between the passenger and the driver, but Ghazul had vehemently declined that. Now Ganda wishes he hadn’t listened to his boss.

_... Or not_. Ganda catches Ghazul’s eyes on him from the rear view mirror as he has a hand up his date’s dress, lips quirked into a small, playful smirk. Propriety forgotten, Ganda holds his gaze even as Ghazul does something with his tongue that causes his date to whine and withdraws his wet fingers. Eyes still connected, Ganda feels heat spread throughout him at the sight of Ghazul popping his soiled digits into his mouth, a hint of pink tongue peeking between his digits.

**_Oh God_**, Ganda prays more fervently, tearing his eyes off from his boss in favor to pay attention to the road. **_Oh God_**, the image of Ghazul’s playful smirk and his tongue - _his tongue, Gusti_ \- keeps flashing in his head, sending jolts of something he’s too scared to name through him. As he tries to keep his focus on the road ahead of him, his ears catch a deep grunt from the backseat, making his eyes grow wide.

_Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look_ \- but Ganda Hamdan never listens to his conscience, at least where his boss is concerned. Just a peek, and with that, Ganda braces himself to sneak a glance again through the rear view mirror.

It takes nearly everything for Ganda not to squeak because Ghazul has his date on her knees, _in between his legs_ and possibly doing something that involves her mouth and tongue and hand. Ghazul, on the other hand, has his legs splayed open and his lips are parted, low groans spilled every so often. His long fingers are wound through the woman’s silken black hair, gently pushing her head down. _He wouldn’t be able to do that to me_, Ganda thinks a little mournfully.

Wait, what. Ganda has to backtrack his thoughts. He hasn’t get laid in weeks, months even. Yes, it’s the pent-up sexual energy.

A loud groan and heavy pants mark the end of the trip to Ghazul’s place. Ganda stays silent as his boss and his date slide out of the car, looking rumpled but satisfied, and has to force himself to take a deep breath while willing his body to cooperate. It would be embarrassing if Ghazul finds out he had popped a boner during the drive.

To his surprise, Ghazul doesn’t immediately enter the building with the woman. Instead of leaving Ganda, he gives Ganda a sign to stay there before, if Ganda assumes right, ordering his date a taxi. The woman looks a little sullen, as Ganda peers from the side view mirror, but Ghazul gives her his most charming smile and leans in for a kiss that heavily involves tongue. He’s smiling after he pulls back, but his eyes are coldly calculating. As his date drives away, he walks back to the car and raps his knuckles on the driver side window, prompting Ganda to slide the window down.

Ghazul is staring at him with his usual distant gaze, head tilted to a side. “Turun. Kamu tidur di tempat saya malam ini.” Without waiting for Ganda’s answer, he turns around and heads to the building.

Falling into his boss’ steps after a brief struggle with his seat belt and the car, Ganda watches him in wary. He knows he’s not one to question the man’s words and actions. He knows that Ghazul has something planned in the clever head of his, but _what_? Ganda’s blood runs cold - is it because Ghazul caught him watching? He had honestly thought his boss has some voyeuristic streak in him and that him watching wouldn’t be considered as a big offense. But what if it is?

The door slams close behind Ganda and he turns around, only to see Ghazul _stalking_ towards him. His gaze is still offish, but there is a gleam in his eyes. Something dangerous that raises goosebumps, his mind supplies, just as he finds himself backed up to a wall, Ghazul pressing up against him. His head thumps against the cold wall, heart leaping to his chest.

“Pak -” Ganda starts, but a hand fisting the front of his shirt causes him to close his mouth abruptly. In front of him, Ghazul is still the same old Ghazul, cold and calculating, with no regard of personal space. A smirk tugs his lips up and Ganda feels his eyes flit downwards before he could help himself.

“Gimana pertunjukan malam ini? Suka?” His voice is low, threatening, but his hand is no longer gripping Ganda’s shirt. Ghazul splays a long fingered hand on his chest, his eyes keep flickering to Ganda’s lips, and oh, _oh_, realization dawns on him. He might be dumb but he’s not that obtuse.

Before he has the chance to say something, Ghazul already eases back but still within arm reach, the gleam on his eyes dimmed down to something vulnerable. “Bilang tidak dan saya akan mundur,” he adds, eyes uncannily sharp.

Ganda exhales a quiet breath, bracing himself for _something_ as he closes his fingers around Ghazul’s hand. The man stills, something flashes in his eyes, and leans in to slant their lips together. Ganda swears he could taste lipstick on the other man’s lips as he kisses back, tentative and unsure. His hands are gripping Ghazul’s waist, pulling him close and against him, Ghazul makes a soft noise in surprise and goes to loop his arms around Ganda’s neck.

Ghazul is the first one to pull away, warm breath coming in short puffs against Ganda’s lips, and despite having several inches on Ganda, he rests his head on the other man’s shoulder and says nothing. They end up in some kind of embrace against the wall and Ganda could feel Ghazul’s sigh fanning his neck.

“Saya tahu kamu ngeliatin saya selama perjalanan pulang,” he starts, voice laced in amusement, and he pulls away to stare at Ganda. His arms are still hugging Ganda’s neck and he’s clearly not in the mood to untangle himself from the other. Ghazul’s eyes are alight with mirth, something Ganda has never seen before, especially when it’s directed at him.

Heat floods his cheeks and Ganda shrugs a shoulder, trying not to look sheepish and embarrassed. “Maaf, Pak, saya -” The explanation dies down in his tongue as he feels Ghazul’s warm but chapped lips against his again, a hint of tongue that follows causes him to shudder. Without pulling away from the kiss, they inch slowly towards the bedroom, and as the back of his knees hit the bed, Ghazul pulls away and pushes him backwards. Ganda lands on his back with a groan, eyes growing wide as Ghazul crawls on top of him.

They both pause to catch their breaths and carefully, Ganda places his hands on the other man’s thighs, keeping him in place. “Pak -” he breathes out but stutters to a stop as Ghazul plucks the button of his shirt open.

“Nama saya, Ganda,” Ghazul murmurs, voice still quiet, before he goes to shrug his suit jacket off. He pauses, raising one eyebrow downward. “Kamu ngga mau bantuin saya?”

Abandoning all decorum, Ganda surges up for another kiss because _fucking Ghani Zulham_ and simultaneously pushing the jacket off Ghazul’s wide shoulders. Against him, Ghazul’s lips curl up into a smug smirk, as if challenging him, and Ganda relishes the noise he makes as he bites down on the other man’s lower lip.

Fucking Ghani Zulham indeed, and he doesn’t realize he means it very literally.

.&.

Several minutes after their _vigorous_ activity, Ganda sits up on the bed and scrubs a hand over his face. He is still panting quietly because unlike Ghazul, he has limits. The other man is lying sprawled next to him, blanket slung low on his hips. The marks he left have started to appear against Ghazul’s tanned skin and Ganda still could taste Ghazul on his tongue. With a sigh, he slides off the bed to collect his clothes - his pants is on the doorway, holy shit - slowly shrugs his shirt on.

“Mau kemana?” Ghazul’s voice is rough, borderline a whine, and the bed dips as he sits up and scooting closer to Ganda.

“Mau pulang, udah jam segini.” Because Ghazul never lets any of his partner stay for the night and behind him, Ghazul inhales sharply. “Ghani?” As Ganda turns around, Ghazul is staring at him with his usual blank gaze, but his face is lacking his usual condescending look. In fact, he looks... _forlorn_. The man looks almost sad.

“Oh.” Is his only answer and with a thud, he falls back on the bed, head hitting the pillow. Ghazul is quiet for a moment, seemingly lost in his thoughts while Ganda watches him, and adds in a curt voice. “Baik.”

Ganda never knows that Ghazul could be _very_ passive-aggressive.

Tentatively, he takes his shirt off again and folds it neatly, and ignoring Ghazul’s lingering stare, he gets back to the bed.

“Katanya mau pulang?” Despite the chilling quality in his voice, Ganda feels the other man scooting closer to him. Ghazul has his back towards him, voice muffled against the pillow. He sighs and rolls to his side to wrap his arms around the man’s waist, leaning in to press a kiss on the naked shoulder.

“Ngga jadi, di kasur saya ngga ada kamu.” It took him several tries to be casual with his boss slash bed partner and when he succeeded, Ghazul had rewarded him by doing something wicked with his tongue. Ganda muffles a quiet sigh against the other man’s neck, causing Ghazul to roll around.

Ghazul wriggles into his embrace, draping half of his body on top of Ganda, and promptly falls asleep. His boss’ ability to be passive-aggressive is terrifying, but he now has his arms full of one Ghani Zulham and Ghazul is _warm_ like a furnace against him, so Ganda smiles to himself and lets sleep lull him into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what even is this


	6. after.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But Ghazul is smiling at him, genuine and open, and Ganda finds himself falling in love with him a little bit.

_VI._

There are fingers tickling his bare skin and heading _down_, where a blanket is barely covering his modesty and Ganda startles awake to Ghazul staring down at him. The man looks impenitent and proceeds to slip his hand under the blanket, prompting a squeak from Ganda.

“Ghani?” His voice is rough with sleep and the answering grin Ghazul gives him is enough to make blood rushes south.

“Selamat pagi.” With a slight smirk, Ghazul swoops in for a kiss, Ganda flailing his arms underneath him. He doesn’t have any complaints though, Ghazul is very skilled with his hands and hips.

.&.

Ganda ends up wearing Ghazul’s spare clothes because there is no time for him to go home and change his clothes without getting late to the office. As he walks slowly, carefully, towards the parking lot, Ghazul is quiet next to him but he radiates satisfaction. There is a slight curl on his lips that makes him looks too smug for his own good and Ganda is tempted to shove him against the wall to take the upper hand but work is waiting, sadly.

“Ganda.” He turns around to Ghazul’s outstretched hand, palm open. “Kunci mobil. Biar saya aja yang bawa.” He pauses for a moment, quirking an eyebrow up. “Di bagasi ada bantal, kalau kamu perlu.”

His boss is a son of a bitch, Ganda thinks fondly, and the twinge on his backside agrees with his words. But Ghazul is smiling at him, genuine and open, and Ganda finds himself falling in love with him a little bit.

.

.

(

Pengkor takes a look at the two of them, walking side by side as they face him, and _smiles_. Next to him, Kamal rolls his eyes behind his glasses.

"Akhirnya. Saya capek lihat kamu curi-curi pandang ke arah Ghani setiap hari." At his words, Ganda feels his face heats up. Ghazul is still, but his eyes grow wide.

"Saya tidak -" Pengkor cuts him off with a wave of his hand, already heading towards the door. Kamal is still staring at the pair, looking unamused, before he too heads to the door, only a beat behind Pengkor.

.&.

"'Curi-curi pandang?'" Ghazul finally asks, the corner of his lips twitches as if he's holding back a laugh. "Kaya anak remaja aja."

"Kayanya tadi malam ada yang ngambek kaya anak remaja juga." Ghazul's face turns stony cold at the words and without another word, he turns around and rushes to the door.

"Eh, Pak!" Wincing a little, Ganda tries to catch up with him, limping a little.

His boss is a _very _passive-aggressive son of a bitch indeed. )


End file.
